Today seems like a good day to ask this question: How do you experience the Holy Spirit? I hadn't really thought about this in my early years as a follower of Christ. Take high school me, for example. I knew that I often felt very connected during times of worship, both at church and while listening to music by myself. Sometimes I'd pray for my friends in Nicaragua and have the sensation of being swept away by an otherworldly passion, expressing my love while weeping helplessly. Other than those rather isolated instances, however, I didn't really have a way to wrap my head around the Holy Spirit. I never recognized a solid way it moved in me as an active, named force.
It's really only been this year that the Holy Spirit has revealed itself as the dynamic force it is. Sometimes I sense its activity as an excited chill running down my arms, or a sweeping abandon that carries me to considerations I'd otherwise never reach of my own accord. Another form it takes is a debilitating sense of distress deep in my gut. But I think that my favorite experience of the Holy Spirit occurs as the sensation of a string. Deep within me, at the very core where body and soul seem to confuse themselves, God sometimes pulls it like a string from my collarbone down to the bottom of my diaphragm. Moments like these afford tranquility that no human reason may understand. Yes, I love the fervor of worship and prayer, but when that force of the Spirit pulls my heart beneath a bubble of stillness, the world stops. Even my overactive mind at last empties. Everything moves without breaking into motion. Think of this as the most epic and effortless moment of meditation, when everything inside at last settles into indescribable wellness.
The spirit at my center is peaceful
It reaches through my sternum and pulls itself down
Like a strong gossamer string
Like a curtain drawn down about my heart
Like a muffle for the roar of my own being
The spirit at my center is resolute
It manifests as a teardrop and keeps its form
Like a drip from the faucet of God
Like a flood paused by promise
Like a quench for thirsts not yet known
I wrote this poem last night as an attempt to express this experience of the Holy Spirit. It scratches the surface, but little more than that; no language can really get at the truth of transcendent peace. But that fits in line with a belief that I've developed regarding my entire walk with God: The Spirit weaves itself in. This is simultaneously a massive blessing and a huge warning not to squander this Godly provision. You don't want to ignore it so often that you cease to hear and feel its motion. Because of that, we need to practice our discernment and remembrance of the Holy Spirit -- we need to know what it looks like to hear and respond faithfully each and every day. For me, that has involved sifting out my own thoughts from the words provided to me from above. This can prove difficult since they sometimes sound like one and the same. But through attention to scripture reading, discussion with other followers, and personal prayer, I've gained insight into when the Holy Spirit is at work within me. Then, once noted, I have the opportunity -- nay, the obligation -- to obey.
The Spirit at our center is our most personal link to God. Recognizing its force in our lives leads to insight into God's vision, sometimes instantaneously. And, of even more wonder to me, I've learned that understanding of it will never be complete. Our God is dynamic. As part of the Trinity, of course the Holy Spirit would prove the same! So how do you experience it? How has the experience swelled or altered through your walk with Christ? I desire to never stop learning the answers to such essential questions.
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